


Cover 1: Waffles

by SensationalSista



Series: Dixie Cups [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Sexy, Undercover Missions, overt come on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SensationalSista/pseuds/SensationalSista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Samaritan  (and everyone's alive and well), the Machine allows for Shaw to follow in Root’s steps, going through identities “like dixie cups”. But her many undercover guises never seem to protect her from Root’s snooping flirtation. Fluff filled one-shot collection.<br/>Shaw's cover identity #1: Waitress</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover 1: Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> This series is essentially a collection of Shoot one-shots with maybe 5-10% continuity throughout each installment.

Shaw roughly huffed her loose strands of hair out of her face as she leaned over the wooden table. Hand gripping the damp wash rag, she wiped away the chunks of food debris and sauce smears left over from the previous customers. Her lip rose in annoyance with a hint of disgust as she thought of the human spawn recently seated here, finger painting with relish. _Messy little bastards. Who would ever want children?_

Stuffing the rag into her apron’s front pocket, and sliding the wooden highchair back into the storage corner, the undercover assassin finally let loose the heavy, agonizing sigh that had been building in the back of her throat since the obnoxiously loud family of six finally cleared out. Of course this was not the first sigh of aggravation she had expressed during this 9 hour shift; far from. She averaged about 1 every 5 minutes dealing with any tasks remotely customer service related. 

Unfortunately, that was the whole point of this job. 

Shaw flopped down in the only cushioned swivel chair in the restaurant, arm draping tiredly on the greeter’s pavilion and cupping her cheek in her palm. 

She was far from charismatic, or pleasant, enough for her boss to position her as the greeting maitre 'd, “face of the establishment." The small woman was ever thankful for his observation of such, since the man hadn’t picked up on any of her other quirks. Plastering a painful grimace across her cheeks when she was waiting on her tables was tiring enough as it is. Judging by the measly weight of tip change jingling in one of her pockets, many customers were also aware of her lack of enthusiasm and utter disdain of this job. 

“Ramone.” The assassin rolled her eyes to the source of sound, not bothering to raise her head from its resting position in her palm. Couldn’t she get at least 1 minute of quiet time to herself? _Mandatory 15 minute breaks are apparently just in the employee handbook, not in the practicality of work._ The shaggy haired man crossed his arms. “Get off your lazy ass. It ain’t closing time yet.” 

“This place is a ghost town. Blondie’s got the only two customers right now,” she deadpanned, referencing the chipper high school student who gracefully floated around the floors like a figure-skating energizer bunny. Needless to say that the girl had quickly established herself as the second most annoying woman Shaw had ever met. Too bad for Shaw, that blonde chipper chick also happened to be her number, and her soul reason for this god-awful cover. 

“Plus, Mark, I’m over due for a break, don’t you think.” With a finality of her statement, she raised her boots, resting her heels on the nearest table to the entrance. 

The manager, easily greater than 5 years her junior, swatted her leather kicks to the floor. 

“Apparently you’re not attending to your section. That woman’s been seated for nearly 5 minutes and you haven’t even introduced yourself,” Mark barked gesturing his thumb over his shoulder. 

Shaw finally lifted her head, looking around the man’s stupid polo shirt clad shoulders, brown eyes looking back to her farthest corner booth to see- 

_Aw Hell no..Can I get those demon spawn back instead?_

“The kitchen will be closing soon. Now get her order or you may not make it to see your second wee-“

“-Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” she mumbled roughly. _Hopefully I’ll have a new cover before that happens anyway_ , she angrily thought while standing and brushing past the manager in a bursk manner, eager to get away from his condescending voice.. and face. 

3 steps free of the man and she found herself now slowing her pace; suddenly very focused on collecting her thoughts. She honed her sights on the partial view of the seated woman tucked away in the plastic covered booth; the woman’s eyes scanning lazily over the slim laminated menus. As the waitress stepped closer, heavy heels knocking on the linoleum floor tiles, she felt a building tick of annoyance rise up her spine. 

The customer must have taken notice of peripheral movement. Or perhaps she had been informed of the waitress’ approaching coordinates through a more supernatural means. Regardless of why she turned, sparkling brown eyes locked on Shaw’s approaching body, unbashfully taking full head to toe inspection of the petite Persian; her cherry red lips pursed in an amused hidden smile. 

The blatant and provocative stare only increased that annoyed tick in her body; the tick of a time bomb. One that was set to go off in just her last remaining steps. 3, 2, 1..

“What the Hell are you doing here, Root?” Shaw growled lowly, posture stiff under the scrutinizing, yet predatory eyes. 

Those honey eyes glimmered beneath fluttering lashes, lips slowly widening as a feigned look of innocence bloomed across her features. “My, such hospitality here. I was _just_ going to ask for a Pepsi.” She coyly lifted her cup toward the small woman with a minute tilt of her wrist. She dropped her gaze briefly down her team partner’s attire, licking her lips dangerously. “.. And also if you’d wear that adorable apron around your apartment after this is done.” 

Shaw glowered for a hot second before aggressively snatching the plastic cup out of Root’s hand, fingers gripping the octagon edged cylinder so tight that she thought that the plastic splintered under the pressure. 

_Of course she’s here,_ she thought as she stomped over to the soda fountain. It wasn’t so much that it was the woman’s presence that was annoying her. No. It was her current mission dealing with customers, Mr. Baby Manager’s ego, her Energizer Bunny of a number, now paired with the former assassin’s salacious innuendos. 

Honestly. There was a time and place for everything. 

That was not now. 

Definitely not after nearly pulling a 10 hour shift in this Hell hole which quickly drained her limited social resources to the point of a 100 years desert drought within the first 10 minutes alone. And she didn’t even want to start on the uniform; frilled edge, red floral print apron. Too bad it was obviously only the first hit on Root’s seemingly unlimited list of innuendo exploitation. 

Her dark eyes landed on the clock, knowing her shift would be up in 55 minutes. Were those hands even ticking? Oh, yes, the second hand is actually moving. Since when did seconds feel like hours? It had to be this dumb Brooklyn diner. 

A fizzing and wet splash drew her out of her disdained thoughts, pulling the overflowing cup away with a string of curses beneath her breath. 

After slamming the soda handle back into place, she took a deep breath, doing her best to somewhat rein in her riled emotions. _Somewhat_. Maybe 2 percent. All greater powers in this world should appreciate such a valiant attempt. She took a quick swig of the drink to level it out before she spilled any more. 

As she was finishing her sip, she had caught eyes with a mildly appalled looking manager. She just shrugged indifferently at him and continued her process. It wasn’t like Root would mind the behavior. Honestly, Shaw was just returning a favor if she counted the number of times Root had stolen sips from her own drinks. 

She made her way back to her soul customer. She put the drink down on the table setting, subconsciously aware that that was probably the gentlest action she had done since becoming aware of Root’s arrival. 

The seated woman smiled upwards in appreciation. “Thank you, Miss Maria Ramone.” At Shaw’s furrowed and confused brow, the hacker smirked as she leaned her elbows atop the table. “You realize She would tell me where to find you if I asked nice enough.” 

The ebony haired woman should have known, now feeling irked at her momentary lapse. 

“So how is your first go at ‘going through identities like Dixie cups’?” teasingly cooed the brunette, lacing her fingers to cradle her chin, eyes gazing through heavy lashes. 

Shaw rolled her shoulders, bored anticipation apparent. “I’ve already been here 4 days, no threats to little miss sunshine yet, unless she’s packing beneath that outward veil of euphoria..” Her expression grew more expressive to reveal her utter boredom. “When do I get to upgrade?” 

Root sighed pleasantly, hand gently raising to her ear in a subconscious motion of affection toward the A.I. “Only She can say, but trust her. I’m sure your next identity will top this cliché.” She wiggled her lips. “No matter how tasteful this cliché looks on you, Sameen.” 

The undercover waitress barely entertained the comment with a tiny cock of her head, voice coming through bitten teeth. “Do you need anything else?” 

“Oh, I can think of a few things..” 

There was a snort. “Wow, subtle.” 

Root let out another sigh, this time containing a more teasingly wistful nature. “I figured if a line as shallow as that would work for your _boyfriend_ , maybe I should change up my game.” 

Internally, Shaw let herself smirk. She did not miss the subtlest slight of malice laced in Root’s reference, indulging in the hacker’s faint show of possession even based on a time so far gone now. She pressed forward with their current conversation. “You gonna order food? Or can I get my tip now?” 

Casually lifting the long menu back up to scan her eyes over again, the taller woman chided, “The best tips come in time, my dearest Sameen.” Shaw forcefully ignored the comment, fishing her pencil and notepad from the god-awful apron pocket. “I’ll take the waffles.. whip cream, chocolate sauce, and cherry on top, of course.” She smiled happily, handing the menu to the skeptical woman. 

“It’s 9:30 at night and you’re honestly ordering breakfast?” 

“You ate four Klondike bars for breakfast last week,” Root countered with a knowing, breezy voice; adoring delight present in the undertones. 

She weakly tried to ignore the adoration in Root’s voice at Shaw’s dietary choices. But Shaw really truly loved her food.. especially the not so healthy choices. A self-satisfied grin lifted at the corner of Shaw’s full lips, envisioning the box of Klondike Bars safely nestled between her frozen vegetables and grenades in the back of her freezer. _Damn those things are addictingly good._ Alright. She’d let this topic slide. This time. 

“Touché,” she finally offered to the still smiling, wavy haired woman, while jotting down the order in her most deliberate chicken scratch. 

When a bit of something else began to flitter to the forefront of Root’s shining eyes, one of those deeper emotions that Shaw did not like spending her time trying to decipher, the grumpy woman ran a hand distractedly through her bangs. She hated being under that gaze. Hated it. It made her stomach feel queasy, nerves fizzle, and cheeks flush. And the worst part of it was that the emotion only grew in intensity as Root observed her reaction. 

In a hurry, she turned in hopes of escaping the situation and stifling the oncoming burn on her cheeks. “Let me go put that in.” 

“I’ll be missing you.” 

The previously flushing heat on her cheeks simmered down to just her usual level of singed exasperation at the loving coo. A disgusted grunt found its way to her lips as she stomped away. 

_Ugh, sickening._

\- 

Shaw’s eyes lingered on the high schooler as she counted up her large portion of tips, splaying the money across a table with gleeful pride. Shaw felt the measly change rattle around in her side pocket. A sensation of disgruntled annoyance welled in her chest as she began to contemplate Harold’s previous description of her social skills. Maybe there was something to be said about improving them ever so slightly, especially if monetary value could be applied. 

Luckily, the fleeting sensation passed and Shaw settled herself into her usual level of neutral disdain again. 

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, yet again, with her number, she turned her eyes back across the otherwise empty diner’s foyer to her lone patron. 

Root was happily cutting into her sugary dinner, bites small and premeditated; complete opposite of how Shaw found herself consuming any meal. Even at a 15ft. distance, Shaw could easily see how Root was purposefully taking her time. An initial burst of aggravation rose in her head, figuring Root was going to decisively make her stay overtime. That was her thought process until her nearly forgotten earwig chimed in on its private line. 

The low hum of an appreciative moan rumbled through her ear. Paired with the visual Shaw had of Root’s closed eyes and saucy smile, all of the rising aggravation began to divert its course; the primitive and heated emotion transitioning to a close relative, equally as raw and hot. 

Shaw continued to stare, fixated on the woman, eating her way through the sweetest dessert; murmurs of pleasant appreciation echoing in her head. She felt her knuckles tighten as she gripped the edge of the table she sat at. 

Root then picked up the cherry, lazily raising the fruit to her lips, letting her tongue take care of the cherry’s residual whipped cream coating. Slow and lapping movements until the cherry was bare and red. She gently placed the candied fruit between her teeth, sparkling eyes suddenly linking direct contact with Shaw’s. Again that deft tongue swirled around the cherry before finally pulling the entire thing into her mouth. A wet ‘pop’ sounded in her ear as she watched Root’s eyes slide shut, a throaty moan of delight now playing over the communication piece. 

Shaw swallowed hard, hating how she was so easily entranced by this mundane scene. But it really wasn’t mundane. Nothing with Root ever was. Everything with this woman was quite the opposite. Sexy. God dammit, why was everything always so sexy with that woman?! 

Finally feeling a fever pitch starting to reach her boiling point of arousal, Shaw hopped up from her seat, unsure whether to go stand in the kitchen’s freezer and cool down, or to go and take matters into her own hands. But the latter was more up her alley. 

She tried to make her movements confident and disinterested as she weaved through the tables to approach the brunette. But hearing Root’s continued noises in her ear piece as well as the target view of her enjoying the last part of her meal was noticeably slowing Shaw’s motions. 

She finally stepped up to the booth once again, dark eyes focusing on the smirking woman. 

“Mmmm.. this was absolutely _orgasmic_ ,” she purred upward, obviously enjoying the visual presentation of the aroused woman standing over her. 

Ignoring Root’s expression and overtone, Shaw let her lips quirk upwards in amusement. “You make such a mess,” she said with a hint of teasing, reaching out her hand to gently wipe away a smear of stray whipped cream lingering at the corner of the patron’s mouth. The action, arguably tender to some, had been so automatic on the waitress’ behalf that she was almost more caught-off guard by herself than the sudden succession of behavior following. 

Root’s hand was wrapped around her wrist not a second before Shaw had pulled back with the swipe of whipped cream. Shaw’s eyes widened in the instant that Root popped her finger into her mouth, tongue immediately taking its time at cleaning off Shaw’s unsuspecting finger. Stroking up and around, long languid laps paired with a dizzying nip of teeth. 

Momentarily widened eyes grew heavy and dilated. Face now flushed deep scarlet, nerves tingling through her abdomen, the ex ISA agent stifled a groan; her free hand now flat on the table to support herself. God, she hated how her breath was gone in just a hot second. 

Well beyond the necessary time to clear the whipped cream, Root finally let up on her assault; eyes never leaving the reddening face of the Persian woman above her. The pride she was taking in her obvious effect was palpable. 

Not two seconds after her finger was spared from the onslaught of a pleasurable massage, Shaw ripped her hand back, body pulsating with arousal. An arousal she could do absolutely nothing about right now without blowing her well established cover. And Root goddamn _knew_ that. Her aggressive chocolate eyes fell on Root’s amused honey ones, and she growled at being played so easily. 

“Oh, you son of a bitch..” Her voice was hoarser than both had expected, this fact only lighting up the hacker’s features more so. Oh that dammed prideful and triumphant smirk.. Too hot, bothered and furious to deal with it, Shaw growled with a roll of her eyes. She yanked the still half-full plate away in attempts to extract herself from the situation; maybe the freezer would have been better after all.. 

“Before you go, Sameen-“ 

She turned abruptly to leave the table, stomping her feet. “Kitchen’s closed.” 

“I just wanted to say-“ 

“Go home, Root.” 

“Wait, _Maria_ -“ Shaw ignored Root’s melodious call of her cover's identity. 

Unfortunately, her manager did not. 

He rushed past the grumpily stalking girl, linking her elbow with his and dragging her back to the booth to stand before the (now surprised) restaurant’s patron. 

“My deepest apologies for my employee’s rude actions, ma’am,” the young man said, nudging Shaw’s shoulder. It only got him a side glare and near silent growl billowing in her throat. “What is it that you need?” 

Root played a small pout of a look. “I just wanted to give my compliments for this magnificent meal. _Second_ tastiest thing I have ever eaten.” Her lips pulled up into a tight smirk as she did her best from letting her salacious grin split across her face. She sent a knowing wink to the increasingly fuming waitress. 

“I will send your kudos to our chef, ma’am.”

"I'll send her kudos up your ass.." muttered Shaw so quietly that only her earpiece must have picked up on the words, judging by her manager's ignorance and the stifled snort coming from the hacker.

The manager then gave Shaw yet another condescending look. “Apologize to our customer, Maria.” 

She scoffed, appalled. “What? No.” She motioned her thumb to the now composed straight faced hacker. “She’s being inappropriate here.” It was the truth, of course, on many levels at this point. They were in a restaurant, she had a cover, _and_ they were in this jackass’ plain sight. Ok, maybe given the first 2 out of 3 situation variants, it wouldn’t matter. But _3_ for 3, _plus_ Root’s behavior, just meant for an aroused and unsatisfied undercover agent. 

“Apologize.” His voice was firm, holding Shaw’s death glare evenly as the air grew tense. Apparently slightly more observant than their overseeing boss, Mark then sneered. “And do it with a smile.”

Her fist clenched, bicep muscle twitching as the impulse control that was already hanging by a fraying hair was just about to snap. 

The rage flourishing across her cheeks only boiled more as she heard the chuckle from beside her, Root’s melodious voice rudely intruding and dissipating the tense air; the only thing holding Shaw’s fist a safe distance from the cocky manager’s face. 

“Yes, _Maria._ I am sure you have a beautiful smile. Be a dear and show me.” 

Oh, that sugary sweetness dripping in her tone made Shaw’s teeth rot down to the bone. Mechanically, she faced the still seated woman; her smug grin and cocked eyebrow far too amused by this turn of events. 

Lips silently screaming, engaging specific muscle groups that rarely need to show themselves, a strangled smile grew awkwardly across her face; her Persian eyes as pitch as night with unbound fury. She could practically see a flash in Root’s eye as she mentally photographed yet another facial expression to file into her mental cabinet. 

Unable to help herself, Root approvingly nodded her head. “Like I said: beautiful.” 

The manager excused himself, but not before giving Shaw a quick word. “We’ll talk about your behavior tomorrow.” 

As he walked away, Shaw’s fake smile fell back into its resting bitch face, dark eyes glaring at the young manager. 

“Hmm, well lucky you,” Root mused, gaining the short woman’s attention once more; an easy thing to do, Shaw begrudgingly acknowledged. “Looks like you may be getting an upgrade sooner than we thought.” 

When Shaw didn’t respond and only continued to glower, Root titled her head sympathetically. 

The customer then stood slowly, gathering her coat and purse, all the while lightly rattling off some casual chatter. “South 9th and Driggs Ave. 2300 hours.” As she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, she looked back down at the smaller woman’s face. “Have you’re silencer ready for them.” As Root’s eyes did a quick side glance across the diner, Shaw’s followed, both landing on her blonde teenage number who was now dragging a mop and bucket out of the storage closet with the manager yapping his head off. 

At the inspection of the pair, Shaw snorted ironically. “Wait, both Raggedy Ann _and_ Andy?” She grinned with a rising excitement for some expected action. She let her body become overtly aware of the gun clipped to her side. “About damn time” 

Root reached into her purse and took out a $50 dollar bill, placing it on the table; the face of President Grant catching the waitress’ attention. The presence of the taller woman suddenly increased and Shaw felt their bodies press flush while her attention was turned toward the table, hot breath against her ear. “When you’re done, pick up some whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and cherries on your way home.” 

The flick of a skilled, warm tongue sliding up her ear sent a rigid tension down Shaw’s spine and she inhaled sharply; arousal from five minutes ago bleeding forward, alive once more. She couldn’t help herself from breathing out a question in muted excitement as the woman made for her final pass. 

“You have a busy night planned ahead, huh?” She subconsciously licked her lips in anticipation, following Root’s body movement with her eyes alone. 

Root chuckled knowingly, enjoying Shaw’s immediate interest in her suggestion. “With you, always.”

Shaw looked at her, chewing ever so slightly on her lower lip, fighting a grin. "How do you know I'll even want to come?"

There was a knowing smile that graced her cherry colored lips and a 'are you really going to challenge me' raise of her fine eyebrow. Get to shoot something with the promise of sex and food; Shaw was pleasantly easy to please. Both Root and Shaw knew it. She took a step further before tossing one lasting look over her shoulder at the undercover woman. “Because, in the morning, I’m making waffles.”


End file.
